Thursday, April 26, 2012

"feeling through inner walls cracked"...

thankful #134: *rain on windows, creeping*

I get in these pent up contemplative phases, where I don't realize I sort of shut down and get quiet, because I'm just listening to all my inner thoughts. I'm sorting them, trying to dig deeper to find what the emotion is. Trying to sense my way through a maze by feeling it. And then I remember, like today when I'm driving and I can feel the rain coming, and I can feel my outside crashing and I remember what it is that I'm not doing, that helps me find my way. I need to write. I am in a place of feeling overwhelmed in many areas, and I just need to take a minute to jot out some thoughts so I can move some of these bits over to the 'let it go' column.
I had a teacher in 5th grade, Mrs. Burke. She told me kind affirmations about my needing to write. I grasped on to that, and believed her. Not like most things which I didn't really believe. I wish I could track her down.
I can see her happy face in my mind. She reminds me to keep writing.

I think I've been struggling because I'm in a place where I'm simultaneously watching both of my kids do things they don't want to do. It makes my innards ache. It makes me fret and feel the anxiety that I know they're also feeling. It makes me wish i could just say "sure, Ok, today we take the easy way". But I can't. I must make them face things that are hard for them, that they dread. I count the days down as they do. I go from shuffling one off to her battle zone, to face kids that are mean to her, to know that her self esteem has dwindled a little this year, to wish I could walk her through her every day. Wishing I could stand next to her with my armor on, and fight her battles, or jump a brick wall and save her from them. They are merely words, but I can see her spirit is tired. Mama is tired too. We count the days down, for the last 3 weeks, which i wish I could take from her. Take the easy route. But which is worse? We will not be conquered, and we will not run from our fears. And we will not let them win. I try to guard her heart, and be her home base, and to hope that she is being made into a warrior, and not instead trampled into a fearful puddle.


Then back home to prepare the other one, to try to build up his courage, to make him feel braver because I know he needs it. He must know how to save himself in water. This I know is a must. I know because my daughter saved herself at three, right after she graduated these lessons. The difference is that she loved every moment of her learning. She loved the water, she loved all of it. My boy - he hates it. He becomes an unrecognizable banshee screaming creature each and every day. I watch as the dread & panic slowly sets in for him, and I want to hug him and to let him keep holding on, but I have to let go. I have to know that what he is learning is more important. I have to trust in what I know to be true and I have to stick to the plan. He is taught with patience and kindness, and in a very safe environment, but boy is he angry. He screams for me, and I have to stay still. He has to learn this. I have to learn this.
I struggle because I am entirely outside of my comfort, and I'm trusting others with my most precious things, when I know they are sad and scared and wanting me. That knocks on me all day, like a giant, bullying, pecking duck. After a while it begins to break me. Not so much the swim lessons, but the bigger picture parts.
I am reminded as we near mothers day... all these things that us mamas have to be. I am not sure what I thought it would be, but it is surely a mighty mountain - and we climb it. We climb when it rains, we climb when it's rough, we climb when it's slippery, we climb when it hurts and when we are tired. And when we fall we cannot stay down, we have to climb again. It is a relentlessly hard journey but that is only because it is vitally that important. This is the journey we are given where failing is not an option. These littles are on loan to me - for a time. You can fail at work, you can fail the PTA, or on the soccer field, and you can fail in other places, but not here. Yes, in smaller bits - i feel like I've failed on a daily basis. But in the biggest, grandest picture of life - we can never stop the climb, we can never hit that button that says "give up" because it's the "easy" button.
And so I must remember to also not let my kids use this charmingly easy button in life. We get through it.
The only way out is through.
In it to win in.
We won't be taken down,
and we will keep climbing.
Never give up.
I am thankful for new days. There is grace in that.



Happy Mothers Day 
to all you various sorts of mothering people






"We may sorrow but we still sow. 
And though we are broken, 
we still bend and begin; we do our work though we weep.

We tell our hurts we must still do the task at hand if we hope to harvest; 
though we may not feel like it, the fields need seeds.

So we hang out the clothes as we try to hang on, and we stir the pot as all the pain spills, 
and we still sow though in tears, and let go of every seed, 
burying hopes and hurts in faith, 
and out of loss, new life will unfurl, our tears watering rows"...


3 comments:

Yankee Burrow Creations said...

as a mother whose motherhood was "completed" (till we adopted our daughter late in life) I encourage you to continue your climb. You are a great mother when you teach your children to fly alone. They will never fly far away.
Debbi
-yankeeburrowcreations

Kristi Hoskins said...

This is beautiful! I have these same feelings with my kids because like your daughter, my daughter had to build up an armor last year in school because of a "mean girl" situation. I had to watch her cry at the end of the day and hold her hand and tell her how much she matters and how beautiful she really is. But these are lessons that we can't safeguard our kids from. Like you, I wanted to go to school with her and be her first defense against these attacks. But instead we ARE the "home base" like you said. That's where we are needed.
Keep climbing!

xoxo
Kristi

Emily Kate said...

What a beautiful peak at a loving mother's heart. Loved this post!!